A/N Hello again. I am writing another story. (evil laugh) I am doing this because I like Sherlock Holmes and I think he definitely needs to get laa girlfriend. I am a hopeless romantic and can make up a Romance for almost any character in a book. I am doing this because there haven't been many non-slash romances in the Holmes area, I thought I should offer this bit ofwhatever to get the ball going.

P.S. this is going to be major fluff, at the most flangst (although not a lot), no angst. I intend to do something happy for a change. Just so everyone knows this is purely for my own enjoyment, if y'all like it well thencool.

P. P. S. Reviewers will be given special thanx in A/N, constructive criticism will be noted and 'fixed' if I think what you are telling me needs to happen should happen. I reserve the write not to listen to a word you say. Flamers will be laughed at and mocked, because I am not in a mood to be nice to stupid people. The flames shall turn and I shall use them for their own undoing (evil laugh again)

So onto what could possibly be the crappiest story I have ever written. Or maybe hell will freeze over and this will be a masterpiecewhatever.

Tara had been on the streets since she was ten years old. She was used to it. She could steal better than many boys her own age. Of course, she had not always been in this lowly state, before she had been quite rich. She could read and write in English, Latin, Greek and a bit of Russian. Then the fire took place and it all went down in smoke. Literally. Tara was left with nothing. So she had quickly adapted herself to street life, doing off-hand jobs here and there.

This month she had decided to take a stop at Baker street. Why? Because she hadn't been there, of course.

She thought she would blend with the rest of the rag-tag of Baker street, and she did, except to one.

Sherlock Holmes knew almost every person on Baker Street and their history, so when a seventeen-year old beggar comes into his territory, he noticed.

He eyed this girl from his current position outside the bakery. She was wearing what could be called a dress if the definition was stretched very far. On top of those rags she wore a mans old coat, about three sizes too big for her. She was a small girl only about five three or so. Her bare, frost-bitten feet looked almost like those of a skeleton. Her face had a high fore head, an alabaster white like the rest of her skin. Her auburn hair whirled around her face, completely loose. Her eyes were green, so startlingly green that Holmes could see them even from his current position.

Yet even with her rather ragged appearance, she would be what other men would call beautiful. A thought crossed his mind. A prostitute perhaps? Holmes glanced away and blushed at the thought. He tried to rid his mind of such thoughts, so he returned to his biscuit.

He hated when Mrs. Hudson was away. He always had to go out for his breakfast, a task he did not enjoy in the least, especially in the winter days like today.

"Damn weather" he murmured, before returning to his room.

~

Tara's eyes turned to his window; he was standing there smoking his pipe, gazing out across the street. Tara wondered who he was. She had never seen anyone like him. He was tall and lean, with a slender strength, not possessed by many. His hair was slicked back in a manner that showed off his high for head and long hawk-like nose. She smirked at the thought. She had a thing for men with big noses. She hated those with button noses, or even worse, squashed, round noses. She didn't know why but she couldn't stand them.

She glanced over to the bakery. It was closed now. Damn, she thought bitterly. Her stomach growled. She sat down at the edge of the building bringing her knees up to her chest. She was so cold; it was like her limbs had turned to blocks of ice, numb and heavy.

A man walked by in a heavy black coat, his sharp gray eyes running up and down her body. Running a hand through his hand he said, "How much d'ya want?"

A deep hate boiled inside her. Never, never, in her time on the street had she resorted to that. She narrowed her eyes and glared up at the man, "Five hundred pounds you self-righteous bastard."

A smirk appeared on his lips. "Always a one for high-prices. You're a Joansworth through and through."

Tara's eyes widened and she started to back away from the man looming over her.

"You didn't really think you could hide forever?" he said, his eyes glowing with an insane fire, full of hatred.

He kicked her in the stomach causing her head to bang into the brick wall. Slightly dazed, and in immense pain she could neither scream nor move.

He picked her up by the neck and whispered in her ear. "I meant to kill you along with your parents, bitch. Believe me, I won't make the same mistake again."

Just as he took out the knife to stab her, Tara regained what little strength she had and screamed while kicking him out of the way. He still managed to cut a long gash in her side, causing blood to run all over her clothes.

He ran off swearing while Tara lay there in a pool of her own blood, the world going hazy.

She heard a man's steps hurrying towards her.

It was him.

He turned her over and stared into her face, "Miss?"

She nodded, her eyes rolling. His eyes scanned her body, assessing her wounds.

"I'm going to get you helphold on." He said in what was an obvious attempt at a soothing voice.

She gasped, choking for air, before the whole world went black

A/N Not as crappy as I thought it was. I am very proud of myself. So tell me what you think.

Short I know, I'm sorry. Can't be helped so deal.